


blood spilled on your hands

by JHarkness



Series: the type of bullet that stuck [2]
Category: Luke Cage (TV)
Genre: Character Death Fix, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 18:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15152645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHarkness/pseuds/JHarkness
Summary: Misty hates that she feels guilty while she stares down at Captain Ridenhour’s body. She didn’t pull that trigger; Mariah did, or at least someone on her orders. But she’s still repeating their last conversation over and over in her mind when the photographer behind her gasps.“This one’s alive!”





	blood spilled on your hands

**Author's Note:**

> y'all didn't think I was going to leave my man dead, did you?

Misty hates that she feels guilty while she stares down at Captain Ridenhour’s body. She didn’t pull that trigger; Mariah did, or at least someone on her orders. But she’s still repeating their last conversation over and over in her mind when the photographer behind her gasps.

“This one’s alive!”

Everyone jumps. The photographer is damn-near hyperventilating, “I was on--on my third picture when he just--he just--opened his eyes--oh my  _ God  _ someone-- _ someone  _ is supposed to fucking-- _ check _ \--before they call us--”

“Someone get this man a bag or something,” Misty orders, motioning to the ambulance crew that’s packing up and about to drive away. She points to their newly-living witness. “And save this man’s life.”

Eight hours later, Misty gets a call from the hospital. Their witness is alive, and his name is Darius Jones. He’s not awake, though, which is not something Misty wants to hear. She asks when he’ll come around and no one can give her a straight answer. The call is frustrating enough that she slams her phone on the desk when it’s over, earning the surprised looks of everyone else crazy enough to still be in the precinct. But then she grabs her jacket and heads to evidence.

“Do you still have those photos? Of the witness we thought was dead?”

“Yes, but they haven’t been printed--”

“I  _ need  _ those photos.”

“Why? There’s no reason--”

“Just get them.”

The photos are on Misty’s desk before she leaves. She puts them in the case file, drops it in her drawer, and locks it. She can’t shake the gut feeling that they’ll help.

When she finds out that the witness is Darius Jones, better known as Comanche, she’s ecstatic. It’s a win that’s long overdue. It doesn’t overshadow losing Mariah, but it’s appreciated when she gets to keep Hernan, lawyer-less, across from her. She interrogates him with those photos, taking comfort in that she isn’t exactly lying--Hernan definitely shot him, she can feel it, and if she says he’s dead, well--she hasn’t called the hospital for a while. He very well could be.

Hernan is a mess. Misty can tell that he’s shaken by the photos, by the event itself, and she needs to know more. “Comanche didn’t mean shit to you, he was just a thug--!”

“You don’t know shit!” Hernan yells, and Misty has him, she’s mere seconds,  _ words  _ away from a confession when Nandi opens the interrogation room door. Misty almost snaps. She makes her disappointment as clear as she can, but it doesn’t get the moment back. Hernan is gone before she can chase the heartbreak and doubt that she found in him.

Misty is at the end of her rope when Hernan surrenders. She doesn’t believe it while he holds his hands out. Even when she cuffs him, she’s waiting for a knife or a gunshot. When it never comes and she’s able to get Hernan into her car, Misty is so relieved she feels like crying; all the weight of what’s crumbling around her, of Mariah’s chokehold on Harlem, is shedding. She takes a deep breath and drives.

The interrogation gets to her. Misty hates Mariah and Hernan more than her body can physically comprehend, and the way Hernan laughs his way through it makes her sick. She brings up Che sooner than she needs to just to get him to the same place he’s putting her. It works. And when Janice comes in, Hernan breaks; if he was dead behind the eyes before, the way he withers after that makes it look like he was a ray of fucking sunshine.

“I’m done!” He’s shouting by the end. Deputy Chief Ridley and Misty agree he’s not. Misty needs that gun, and Ridley thinks Hernan has more to offer than dirt on Mariah.

“Take him to see the witness.”

Misty doesn’t think Hernan deserves to know Darius is alive, but the Deputy Chief is right that it will make him talk more. She leads him through the hospital, jacket draped over his cuffs so they don’t scare any of the other patients, and to a room guarded by three heavily-armed officers. Hernan raises an eyebrow. “What is this?” he asks, looking the officers up and down. Misty sighs.

“Look,” she begins, nodding at the officers to step aside. They do and she puts a hand on the doorknob. “I want you to know that if it was up to me, you wouldn’t be here at all. I’ve been ordered to let you alone in that room. But Hernan, if you try anything--” Misty puts her hand on her gun, raises her eyebrows, and curls her lip, “I really won’t hesitate.”

Hernan knows it’s bullshit. They need him in order to take down Mariah. Still, it makes Misty feel better, and a twisted part of her can’t wait to see the smug look fall off Hernan’s face when he sees who is in that hospital bed.

The door opens and Hernan is still looking at Misty over his shoulder. The door closes and he looks to the bed, and the way he crumbles, Misty thinks, has only ever been matched by a building demolition. Hernan stumbles forward and then collapses to his knees. Winding his fingers together behind his neck, he stares down at the floor. Misty sees his shoulders rise and fall rapidly, and knows he’s berating himself for being so weak in front of her. He’s shaking, and needs the support of the bed when he stands.

Hernan looks back to the door. He actually flinches at Misty when he sees her standing there, face set, jaw stiff. His recovery from it is not smooth; he squares his shoulders and stands tall, but there are still tears falling on his face, and he’s pulling at the handcuffs desperately so he can get a hold of Darius.

“Che,” he breaths finally, and that’s what gets Misty. She clears her throat and watches Hernan take Comanche’s hand between his own.

With his back turned, Misty can’t hear what Hernan says after that. She puts her hands on her hips and decides to leave the door, though she isn’t sure if it’s out of decency, or simply the certainty she has that Hernan won’t leave that room voluntarily. She checks her watch. She gets coffee for the guards and herself, and then calls Ridley to update her on the situation.

“I didn’t think we were going to break him any more than we had.” Misty sips her coffee and looks in the direction of the room. “I knew that Comanche was important to him, clearly more than Mariah, but I didn’t expect this. You made a good call sending him here.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Don’t give him too much time, though. I need him in here within an hour. We have our work cut out for us.”

Misty agrees, and then hangs up. She takes her time getting back to the room. When she reaches the door, though, she doesn’t hesitate. “Time to go,” Misty orders, walking all the way up to the bed. Hernan is sitting in a chair next to it, still holding Comanche’s hand and staring at his chest. He isn’t crying anymore, but his eyes are red.

“How long has he been like this?” Hernan’s voice is gravely, low. The question is gritted out through his teeth.

“Since we picked him up where you left him,” Misty answers, voice acid. She gets the reaction she wants. Hernan stiffens, looks away, and then looks at her. His lip curls in a snarl and Misty laughs. “Careful, Hernan, I’m the one who controls if you get back in here.”

That settles him. He looks truly defeated, the last embers of his fire dying as he presses his face into Comanche’s hand. “Do they know when he’ll wake up?”

“No.”

“‘No’? That’s all you fucking--”

“Do I look like a goddamn doctor? We want him to recover as much as you do. Two witnesses is better than one. But there’s no way we’re giving you access to his records until you give us more, so it’s time to go.”

Misty can see him getting ready to fight.

“You can try to take me out and get another 2 minutes here, all while I’m beating your ass,” Hernan sucks his teeth and cocks his head, but Misty softens her voice and presses on, “or you can walk out of here with me and have a chance of seeing him again.”

Hernan decides to take that chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Keep an eye out for part 3! This was supposed to be the last part but ended up becoming sort of a stepping stone to a really, really awesome finale. I promise.


End file.
